Hooker is chatting up a couple secretaries, and for someone who doesn't want that title he sure is dipping his toes in the typing pool often enough. Joan and her ever-expanding rack pull him away and tell him that she thought it would be a good idea to have an office set aside for when visitors come from the parent company, and it would also make sense for someone to be occupying it in the meantime. She leads him to Burt Peterson's old office and says it's not much, but he will have someone to attend to his typing, "to avoid you siphoning off the man-hours." Heh. Hooker's thrilled, but he'd probably suspect Joan of being up to no good if he could only control his emotions.
Trudy shows up to Pete's office and...oh God, I forgot about this. She's wearing the most ridiculous black fez I've ever seen and bearing a gift for Pete, a marble paperweight and pen holder with this inscription: "Peter Campbell: The buck stops here." She's such a sweetheart, but...no. Just...no. Pete informs her that said bucks are going to be stopping in front of Ken in equal number, but after Trudy tells him she's sorry, she goes on that he's a lot like her father. "You're an ambitious man, and an ambitious man is never happy with what he has!" That's true. On the other hand, your father seems to be a pretty decent guy, while your husband's a douchebag. Just thought I'd let you know that parallel isn't exact. Pete literally whines about his lot in life, so Trudy has to tell him that he's actually got an amazing opportunity here, so he shouldn't cock it up. "They do not want to hear your outrage. They want you to beat Ken!" Wise words from someone who let herself go out with that thing on her head. Pete still won't shut up, so Trudy settles for kissing him, reducing him to staring at her like a three-year-old whose pediatrician has just told him he's fresh out of lollipops.
We return to a close-up of Sal's sketches for the new London Fog ad Don pitched on the plane. Paul marvels that the whole thing is great, but then asks Sal to gossip about the Baltimore trip, obviously angling to hear stories about Don's escapades. I swear, it's like Don's the Sam Malone and Harry and Paul are Norm and Cliff. And that may sound like a harsh comparison for Paul here, but at least Cliff, like, delivered the mail. What exactly does Paul do all day? Anyway, Sal is no longer interested in dishing about Don now that Don has made his penchant for discretion plain, and he says the trip was just "two old married men. Sorry to disappoint the hen party." Some of that may have been implied.
Don's doing some of his own typing (take note, John Hooker) when Roger enters, saying his girl is gone and he's got a bottle of Stoli and a box of Cuban cigars. What myocardial infarction? He adds that he sent them from Greece: "Should have tried a pound of opium." Frankly, I'm kind of surprised you didn't. Don brings up the "Cosgrove vs. Campbell" situation, and wonders what Bertram's up to, but Roger corrects him that while the setup "sounds Japanese," it wasn't Bertram behind it, but Pryce, possibly on behalf of the home office. "I told him it was a stupid idea, but they don't always get our inflection." Heh. Just then, Pete comes in and archly asks to speak to Don, but trails off when he catches sight of Roger and, after some blatant emotional course correction, says he's honored by the promotion. Roger invites Pete to have a drink. "Not the Stoli." It would have been funnier if you'd offered him half a glass, Roger. Bertram then joins the party and, seeing Pete, says he was going to tell this to Don but he can give the news to Pete directly: He has an old friend at the mayor's office who wants to do a campaign. "Something about...Penn Station." I can see where that would need some PR. Pete's thrilled, and then Bertram asks for some brandy. I guess he really wasn't kidding back when he said he wasn't much of a drinker, given the way Roger swivels his head like a praying mantis at the news. If I had to guess, I'd say he's feeling regret over the decision to sell the company, as he makes a veiled insult to their new overlords before wistfully remarking, "I don't care what they say. London Fog is a great name." Everyone looks around like, "What's the over-under on when the old fogey goes completely around the bend?"